


Between the Boards - Additional Scenes

by Linane



Series: Memories in Black and White [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventures, Descriptions of War (Mentioned), Domestic, M/M, Sort of WW2 AU, emotional h/c, fili and kili are not related, h/c
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linane/pseuds/Linane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of not-necessarily-in-sequence ficbits added as an expansion to the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4784042">Between the Boards</a> story, which should be read first, for these to make sense.</p><p>Most of those were written for the <a href="http://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/133830919305/we-challenge-you-fiki-fandom">FiKi December Challenge</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Duvets and Compromises

_September 1945_

 

 

Kili accepts the additional blanket as if he was a deity accepting a customary sacrifice. It will make a nice addition to the already sizeable collection of all things soft and comfortable littering their bed. It’s been several nights in their new cabin and they’re still trying to decide what works best for them.

They’ve never had the chance to test any long-term sleeping arrangements together.

Kili likes having several covers, especially as the nights grow colder, so even if one slips off him, there will be another one to burrow into. That is too much for Fili, who will either throw the many layers off in the middle of the night and wake up shivering, or will have difficulty falling asleep at all. They have tried sleeping under separate covers and absolutely hated it, when searching hands got tangled and no matter how much they scrambled they didn’t quite feel close enough.

So now they are trying this new idea, which is two covers sewn together, so there is only one layer, but big enough that it won’t slip off them, no matter how much Kili tosses and turns. And this means that the search is currently under way to find two covers similar enough to work well joined together.

“You’re puttering.” Kili frowns.

“I was exploring.”

“You are puttering around the house again, _walking_. I thought you were just getting the tea.”

“Aren’t you at least a little bit interested in what kind of place this house was?”

“I’m rather more interested in what kind of place it _will be_ ,” brown eyes soften, “With you.” He wraps his fingers around Fili’s shorter ones, tugging him gently down and into the sheets.

Fili goes down with minimal resistance, although there’s a bit of indignant flailing, as they sprawl on the bed together.

“It will… seize up if I don’t move at all,” Fili whispers quietly, looking away, and Kili huffs, pulling him bodily on top of himself, arms trapping him in place.

“I know that,” he murmurs into the soft, scruffy beard, “But right now you are trying to work through the pain. You’re only making your recovery take longer. You’re not about to go back to covering twenty miles per day, Fili.” He tugs at the nearest duvet and drapes it tightly around Fili’s back, trapping him further.

“You can’t know that.”

“I _can_! I can’t explain it, but I can feel it in my bones. This is _home_ now.”

“Kili…”

“You need to ease off it. Let me fetch things.”

“There is just so much to do. And anyway, we desperately need to go shopping, which means _more_ walking in either case. We’ve got nothing left for breakfast.”

Kili kisses Fili’s pulse point to get his attention, to _really_ listen to what Kili is saying.

_Shhhhh… relax._

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Kili whispers into the warm skin, nuzzling Fili’s soft blond hair out of the way with the tip of his nose. “We will go to the market, together. We’ll walk slowly, and we’ll take the bike with us to help us haul our supplies back.”

“You know that it’s broken,” Fili interjects.

Kili hums in agreement. “Yes, the chain keeps falling off. We can fix it in the next few days, but for now we will just coast it there and back. The tyres are in good condition, I checked. And when your leg starts hurting –“

Fili moves to protest again, but Kili gives his ear a sharp nip in warning. “ _When_ your leg starts hurting,” he repeats with emphasis, “you will tell me and hop on for a bit to let it rest.”

“I am _not_ a damsel in distress! I can walk just fine!” Fili scoffs, trying to pull away with all his strength, but using all of his grown up reflexes, Kili wraps both his legs behind Fili’s thighs, and deftly rolls them over, coming on top.

“No, you’re not. You are the love of my life and you’re being pig-headed as usual.”

Kili kisses Fili on a little growl, kisses him deep and hard and demanding. He kisses with his whole body, his fingers carding through Fili’s blond tresses, hips pressing against Fili’s lower stomach.

“If you’re going to let me love you, you will need to let me take care of you from time to time,” Kili murmurs against swollen lips, pleased with the debauched look he has managed to achieve on his friend. “I am not the Third Reich. You don’t have to prove to me how strong you are and that you’re not a cripple. I _know_ that you aren’t. I’m your best friend, Fili, I know when you’re trying to overdo it. You get that face –“ he tries to demonstrate and Fili actually laughs, a soft, open sound, with sparkling eyes and dimples.

Kili sighs happily and is forced to kiss him again, right there, on that bubbling laughter.

“That is _not_ my face!” Fili argues when he’s allowed to breathe again.

“Is too! Especially when you’re overthinking things. That’s exactly the face your sixteen year old self was sporting when you found that pole and insisted on trying to jump the fence using it, instead of climbing over it like a normal person.”

More laughter, little tears in the corners of Fili’s eyes and Kili is pleased with himself, when his fingers slide surreptitiously from the back of Fili’s head to his neck and find it much more loosened than before.

“I should know, I was the one to scrape you off that fence after.”

“Kili…” a warm, calloused hand comes to rest along the curve of his cheek and Kili leans into it automatically.

“You were hurt then, but you were denying it, even as the blood poured down from your nose, and you are doing the same now. The difference is, a fourteen year old me found it hilarious; a twenty two year old me wants to throw you on the bed and touch you until nothing hurts and your whole body feels… sort of tingly and relaxed.”

They kiss for the third time, gentler and more affection than anything, a delicate movement of tongue against tongue and Kili’s fingers digging into the nape of Fili’s neck to erase the last stiffness there.

“- Which isn’t to say that I won’t laugh my ass off if you trip,” he clarifies, just in case.

“ _Fine_ , I give up!” Fili declares with a dramatic pout and he’s always had a flare for dramatics. “You can cart me around, if you want, along with the shopping.”

Kili gives a pleased little hum. “And then I’m making you a proper matzoh ball soup.”

“Yes, fine, you can feed me after.”

“And then –“

Fili flips them over with a little snarl, the one that makes a shiver run down Kili’s spine, and only succeeds because Kili isn’t expecting the manoeuvre. “- And then you are going to help me pick the right two duvets and sew them together so I can have some proper shut-eye without having to slow-roast in the process.”

“Deal,” Kili agrees, thinking that he can probably ply Fili into a hot bath before bed anyway. “Now shake on it.”

Fili shakes his head incredulously. “You’re ridiculous. You and that little swarm of swirling thoughts in your head. I’ll _kiss_ on it, how’s that?”

“Better.”


	2. Female Mystique

_November 1946_

 

 

There is a distinctive whine coming from their spare bedroom.

Fili smiles, but continues his task of chopping up the carrots – if Kili feels like he needs his help, he’ll come up and ask for it.

As if on cue a thoroughly fed-up looking brunet appears in the doorframe only moments later.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, as arms wrap up around his waist and a stubble-covered chin is placed on top of his shoulder. “You sound like you’re stuck again.”

“I think I need a romantic plot,” Kili sighs.

“Do you? I thought you managed just fine throughout the first book without it.” He leans in just a bit, offering a little peck to one angled cheek, before passing Kili the smallest of carrots he already rinsed. “Eat. You’re always less whiny once fed.”

Kili bites off a chunk without so much as a pause. He likes carrots, especially the fresh, sweet new season ones and Fili is prepared to make certain sacrifices to appease him.

“The thing is,” Kili continues, waving his carrot about for emphasis, “I think if I had a romantic plot, I could show sides of Theo that I can’t show right now. He’d be a much more facetted and well-rounded character. He’s curious, yes, sometimes brilliant, but also prone to making mistakes, honest and loyal, but he’s not –“ Fili waits patiently as Kili grabs at the air, as if he could pluck the words out of it, “he’s missing his humanity. He’s artificial, reason-driven. He needs passion, needs to be irrational and, well, he needs to settle into himself.”

“Aaaah, ‘to love is to put your heart on a stick and wave it at your enemies’,” Fili quotes philosophically, pushing the neat little pile on top of his chopping board into the pot of merrily bubbling water. “Alright then. Write him a love interest. See what he does with it.”

Another whine, this one more miserable than the last one.

“Herein lies the problem.” Kili mutters, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t think I can write him… well, he can’t have what we have.” He admits, sounding almost upset and Fili is forced to feed him another round carrot chip.

“Yes, I think your publisher might struggle with Theo falling for another man. They wouldn’t understand.” Fili agrees quietly.

“But then – I don’t know _anything_ about the… the female mystique!” Kili explodes, face like a storm cloud, pacing their kitchen-come-living room.

“Female –?“

“I mean, what would she even be like? What is she doing there? _Who_ is she, Fili?!”

Fili hides a little chuckle at Kili’s outburst. It’s always pleasure to watch Kili’s creative process, complete with his expressive face, self-satisfied little grin when he feels it’s going well and little bursts of temper when they aren’t.

“I think she’d have to be a pretty special lady to catch Theo’s interest. I imagine you design her like any other character – she’d have her own agenda, interests and weaknesses. Sometimes she’d save him, sometimes he’d save her. I imagine they travel together because if he loves her, then he’d want her to share in his passion for adventures, and anyway, I think she’d enjoy that. They’d do this thing where they catch themselves talking for hours, until it’s almost morning in the Amazon, and sometimes she smiles in that way that makes his stomach do summersaults. Perhaps she keeps a journal. That would give you an excuse to record how others see Theo.”

Kili nods. “Yes, yes, all that I can figure out later. But what about the _female mystique_?! I don’t need just another character, I need a character _in love_. What if I can’t make it believable, what if I write it and it’s all wrong?! I mean, what is it about her that would appeal to him? How would he know that _this is it_ , and what would he do with it?! How does it work?!”

Fili arches an eyebrow. “You want me to describe to you how _the magic happens_.”

“No!” Kili stops abruptly, ears going pink. “I mean, I know in theory how - But that’s not – It’s not about _that_. It’s about the whole… man and woman relationship thing.”

There’s an opportunity here and Fili wouldn’t want to miss it. “Because I could demonstrate some elements of how the magic happens –“

“Fili! I’m serious.”

“You sure? Because you keep coming back to this whole _female mystique_ thing and I can’t quite take you seriously…”

A growl.

Fili sighs and puts down his chopping knife. He’s getting dizzy from the miles Kili is covering in front of him in the tight circles around their sofa. “Sit,” he orders, and is surprised when Kili actually follows. He pulls up a chair in front of him and sits astride it, with his arms resting on the backrest, to make sure he can look his friend in the eye.

“Fundamentally, I think everybody loves the same,” he says slowly. “It’s that faster beating of your heart when you see them, the peace when they’re around, the stretching silences and solitude when they’re not. It’s the things you see in their eyes and respond to, and the way your order of priorities goes to hell when they walk into your life. Memories, warmth, excitement, sense of belonging and the sheer dumb happiness every time you wake up, rolled up into one. And it doesn’t matter who you are, or who you love, or even what you do with that love. This is how you know, this is what it feels like, for us, for them, for anybody who has ever walked this earth.”

Kili is staring at him and they search each other’s eyes for a moment, before Fili self-consciously looks away. “The ladies just have different… um, assets. They are generally softer, from what I understand.”

He’s about to go back to his soup, when Kili yanks on his chair, nearly causing it to topple over and kisses him, right there on Fili’s alarmed yelp. He kisses hard, demanding and caring at once and so full of emotion that Fili thinks –

_You don’t need to be told. You love with every ounce of your being. And I love you just as bad._

 

\---

 

Fili looks even smaller than normal when he sleeps.

He likes to curl up and once he finds a position he likes he’s unlikely to move. He’s also sleeping easier these days – a heart once terrified now held together by Kili’s presence and voice, and it shows, even in the way Fili moves or talks during the day. They both finally feel safe.

Kili _loves_ watching him sleep.

His whole body relaxes, his hair is so soft, strewn carelessly across the pillows and his face is peaceful. If Kili is really lucky, there will be that tiny smile on that face, which means that Fili is having good dreams and sometimes Kili resorts to gently stroking over his back until the smile makes an appearance, or Fili mutters something incomprehensible and turns.

The idea that this is special and somehow sacred has never left Kili, even now when they share a bed every night, and he marvels at how far they’ve come.

He watches the shadows on Fili’s face, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, feels the warmth of his body under the covers. A body capable of feeling wonderful things; a brilliant mind and a quirky personality that matches his own.

A sum total of a _person_ , who is Kili’s entire world.

_I think everybody loves the same._

Kili thinks of the things Fili said to him; earlier today and years ago, when he told him many times that he’d die with Kili if they were found, that it would be okay, because they’d stay together. He knows that this is the truth, he knows that the years they have been apart were the hardest in his life.

Another human, who gives meaning to things, not just a plot device.

He needs to create a person. And then see if she can be Theo’s entire world.

Kili wraps his arms around Fili and pulls him closer before kissing him gently on his temple. He inhales the smell for a moment, better to remember what he just understood, to keep it with him as if it was a blanket.

“I love you,” he whispers into the skin before carefully sneaking out of the bed and making his way into the spare bedroom, where the quiet tap-tap of his typing machine won’t wake Fili up.

 

\---

 

Fili thinks he wakes up when the bed is disturbed in the bleak, grey hours of the dawn and the birds are only just beginning to sing, while everything else is eerily quiet.

He grabs blindly at the daft occupier of the bed and pulls him tight against his body to share some of the warmth with the chilled skin he finds.

He relaxes, having what he wants, where he wants it, and within moments he’s asleep once more.

When he wakes up again, it’s because Kili is snoring right in his left ear.

He huffs and rolls to the other side, tugging at one overly long arm to rest against his chest.

Kili rolls with him, snuggles up – but doesn’t stop.

Eventually Fili blinks himself awake, when it becomes obvious that he won’t be able to hide away from the world any longer.

He pads into the kitchen still only partially conscious, but doesn’t miss the neat stack of paper placed on their dining table, which means that it’s ok for Fili to read.

Intrigued, he picks up the pages, automatically putting on the kettle and reaching for the metal tin with coffee without looking. It’s his day off, and judging by the amount of paper in his hands, Kili won’t be getting up any time soon, which means that Fili has got the house to himself, peace and quiet and some excellent reading material.

By the time he’s made his way to their sofa – steaming mug in one hand and Kili’s writing in the other – he’s almost finished with the last paragraphs of the previous chapter, which Kili always includes to help ease him into the flow of the novel.

He settles comfortably, but frowns at his toes, which are getting colder by the second, now that he’s replaced the warmth of his bed with the cold wooden floor. He tugs at the blanket settled precariously on top of the sofa’s backrest for exactly such eventuality and spreads it out over his legs and lap.

Better, he decides, taking a sip of his coffee and transferring his attention back to the page he holds.

 

> _Chapter 16_
> 
> _He has travelled across the entire world, from the high, inaccessible Andes, to the thick Malaysian jungle opening up abruptly to the undiscovered sandy beaches._
> 
> _He never knew that his entire world could be a single person._

 

\---


	3. Aurora Borealis

_December 1946_

 

 

Kili walks out of the store already fishing for the still-warm, sweet and sticky cinnamon buns. He pulls one out, inhales the heavenly smell and passes it to Fili, grinning.

Fili smiles back, taking it from his hands, before Kili finds one for himself. These are the best moments: returning back from a shopping trip and they’ve agreed that if there is fresh bakery to be had, they buy two extra for a snack on the way back. There is no other feeling like biting into a fragrant, warm, crunchy or gooey baked goods, breathing in the fresh, salty air, infused with the smell of the sea and windswept hills.

It’s dark now of course, with the sun no longer rising at all, but they feel safe together – bundled up warmly, walking with their little lanterns and backpacks full of supplies, among familiar buildings. They collect their post, catch up on the local events and news from the world, sometimes they pop to the local inn for a bowl of the delicious, steaming chicken soup, the same one they had on their very first day in Sandviken.

Kili is already considering what he could do with the excellent cut of lamb that the shopping assistant was able to save for them, specifically what marinade might be best for it, when a warm hand settles on his shoulder.

“Kili, look up,” Fili’s eyes are wide with the sense of wonder and Kili follows his line of sight to see -

The lights are like nothing he’s ever seen. They seem to be dancing in the night sky, twisting and changing colour in a stunning display, which covers the entire horizon.

“ _Aurora Borealis_ ,” Fili whispers and sighs and more than anything Kili wants to wrap his arms around him and kiss him, because he looks so – _moved_ , like he needs somebody to make this real for him. “I’ve never thought I’d get to see it.”

“Come on,” Kili murmurs, shoving the last of the cinnamon bun in his mouth and starting to walk faster towards the mouth of the valley, where their little dinghy awaits. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we can settle outside, wrapped up in blankets and with a cup of tea to watch. It will be even better visible from the island, with no electric lights to spoil the view. I want to watch them properly –“

“- With you.” Fili finishes for him, smiling and running up a little to catch up with him.

 

\---


	4. In Sickness and In Health

_January 1947_

 

 

“Hurry, he’s in here.”

Fili looks small all by himself in their double bed, but Kili supposes that the lady he brought with him to help mustn’t know that this is unusual for them.

Fili peers at her with glossy eyes, but doesn’t protest when she takes up the seat vacated not so long ago by Kili next to the bed and places her hand over his forehead. He allows her to feel his throat and does his best to breathe deeply when she moves her hand to press it flat against his chest, but ends up in a coughing fit, struggling for breath and sounding like something is ripping inside him.

Kili hovers in the doorframe, uncertain what to do.

Agatha was recommended by Bilbo, when Kili appeared on his doorstep that morning, talking too fast, explaining that Fili was ill. When Kili asked if she was a doctor, Bilbo only smiled and repeated that she could help.

It’s just one of the thousand little things they haven’t considered moving out of a big city, to an island at the end of the world: medical care, regular post and newspapers, corner shops, public transport – all those things they used to take for granted. Now they are forced to learn to live without them.

“What happened to you, sweet child?” She asks quietly, one gentle hand at the side of Fili’s face, her thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “Where is your mother?”

Kili knows Fili enough to understand that when he closes his eyes, it’s to hide an expression of pain behind his eyelids; he’s ever so careful not to lean into her comforting touch.

Fili misses his mother.

He won’t talk about it, but Kili knows anyway. He has made himself an orphan for Kili and he never looked back, but sometimes other people, or even little details, drag the past back to the forefront of Fili’s mind and Kili watches him carefully holding himself together.

The few times Kili met her, she was always kind to him and he knows that Fili’s quiet, contemplative and observant side is something he shares with his mother. He can only imagine the comfort these two were able to draw from their conversations, the way she helped him centre himself or the way their stubbornness made them both dig their heels in if there was any disagreement. Kili can’t help but think that she would be at least a little bit proud of him for sticking to his own moral code and saving Kili’s life, although he thinks she’d also be mortified by how much Fili risked his own life doing so.

Of course Fili is also his father’s son, and his fierceness, protectiveness and a wicked sense of humour must come from him, but Kili finds it difficult to think about the man who, with all those wonderful qualities was Fili’s hero until his early teenage years, but today would likely shoot Kili on the spot given the chance.

“She’s dead,” he says instead, so Fili doesn’t have to. “She perished early in the War, in an air raid.”

An official story of their life in Germany was one of the first things they discussed and agreed as soon as they moved in. Fili especially insisted that it had to add up in minute detail, in case there was any trouble. Parts of their story are true, making it more believable, as they meticulously braided the facts together with more half-truths and outright lies to create a shield that would protect them.

“And you share a father, do you not?”

“He never returned from the War,” he says vaguely, without specifying which side the man would have fought on. “My mother passed away when I was seven,” Kili elaborates, so she doesn’t feel like they’re trying to hide anything of their past; besides, she hasn’t judged him for allegedly being a result of an affair and he instinctively feels that she can be trusted. “I barely remember her. Fili’s family took me in. They were the only family I ever knew.”

It would be easy to mistake the sadness in her eyes for pity, but the hardy Swedish woman seems to know when a heart can be shattered with one wrong look.

“Can you help him?” He asks to change the topic.

Agatha gives him a warm smile, which is extended onto Fili. There is every chance that she doesn’t believe in Kili’s story, or that she only believes parts of it. They are not as naïve as to think that their closeness is missed by the villagers, but like most, she seems happy so long as an explanation exists, regardless of whether it’s true or not. Whilst Kili hates lying to a lady who has never done anything to harm them, he recognises the necessity of the act, and he hopes that on some level, people recognise their hearts as sincere.

“I will do what I can,” she agrees, reaching to retrieve a collection of small jars from her bag. “Can you please bring us a cup of boiling water and some clean fabric, which you’re not going to use again?”

Kili sends Fili a reassuring smile, before rushing off to provide the requested items. Bustling about their cabin, Kili can still hear Agatha’s voice coming from their bedroom, calm and soothing, as she explains the wonders of unconventional medicine to his friend, occasionally asking him questions. Fili says little, but he’s always quiet when he’s hurting, and if not for Kili’s worried fussing, he’d likely just want to be left alone.

It’s hard to imagine though that Fili would actually expect him to do nothing. This whole thing started when Kili found him burning up and with skin so sensitive he could barely stand the covers this morning, after returning back yesterday in his old boots soaked through and his toes practically blue.

By the time he’s back, Fili is sitting more or less upright, propped up on some pillows. Agatha is pressing a little bundle to his forehead, which, Kili realises with some astonishment, contains some snow she’s collected from the bedroom’s windowsill. He’s not sure why he hasn’t thought of this himself.

Fili’s eyes are closed again, but it’s clear from the curve of his lips and the delicate tilt of his head towards Agatha’s hands, that this time whatever she’s doing is helping.

“Nature’s most ferocious protective mechanism against infection lies within ourselves. But sometimes you just have to… kick start it. Do you take sugar in your tea, Fili?” She asks him out of the blue.

“No,” Fili murmurs, smiling gratefully when Kili comes closer to settle at the edge of their bed and place one hand on top of his shin.

“Right,” she nods. “Well, there will be some sweetness in the medicine I’ll be leaving with you. But first things first,” she points to the two of the jars she brought with her. “These are echinacea and yarrow. They will help reduce –“

They both stare at her in confusion, because the names of the herbs are not amongst the basic Swedish they have picked up to date.

Agatha’s face softens as she shakes her head with a rueful smile. “One spoon of this and two spoons of that,” she picks up again, “into the cloth, make a little parcel, steep in boiling water for five minutes, then squeeze it tight to get the last of the brew out. Three times a day, sweetened with honey to take the edge of the bitterness. I will get Martha to bring some over from the shop and leave it in the boat shed on our side of the water. You can collect it in a few hours and pay her on your next visit. That’s for the fever.”

This Kili does understand and he nods eagerly, now that there is some concrete advice.

“Next, you will find two big onions and chop them up as finely as possible. And I mean, really fine. Into a bowl and sprinkle evenly with three spoonfuls of sugar. Cover that with a plate but keep in room temperature. The onions will release juice, which together with sugar will form a syrup. That’s for the cough.”

Fili is pulling faces and Kili finds it hilarious that his brave, strong friend is trying to shy away from having to drink a bit of a sweet syrup.

“I don’t suppose you have any preserves?” Agatha enquiries next.

They don’t, of course, and neither of them has ever tried making any.

“Next year, be sure to make some. They help you keep your vitamins in the diet throughout the winter. I will come over in the autumn and help you with your first batches,” she declares, causing Fili to look up at her with renewed interest. “For now, I will send some of my preserved raspberries together with the honey. Raspberries, especially the juice are for your tea. It tastes nice and will ensure that you can take on the Swedish weather better next time.”

There are a couple more pointers aimed at improving Fili’s well-being and recovery time and although Kili had his doubts at first, he thinks he can kind of understand what Bilbo meant when he insisted that Agatha would help.

There is something motherly about her, not least because when they first met her, they were weary from the road and she gave them an entirely motherly once-over and pointed them towards their future home. But she doesn’t try to force her help on them, doesn’t try to dictate how they should live their lives. She merely offers suggestions and adjusts them to what works for them, recognising that they are, in fact, grown up and independent.

“I’m proud of you,” she says unexpectedly, getting out of the boat, once Kili ferried her over. “It must have been hell, but you found a way out. And now you’re here all alone in this remote house on the island, but you’re making it work for you.”

“We’re not alone,” Kili protests. “Fili has me and I have him. We’re together and that’s enough. That’s plenty to be grateful for.”

She looks at him sharply for a moment, mouse-blonde hair whipping around her face and a thick woollen shawl around her shoulders. “You have a kind heart, Kili. Take care of him, and yourself,” she says by the way of goodbye, leaving Kili in his dinghy somewhere between stunned and moved.

Nobody has been proud of them in a very, very long time.

The moment Kili steps back into the cabin, Fili insists that he returns to bed.

“All this poking and prodding,” he grumbles. “Couldn’t just leave me to rest in peace here, could you?”

“You’re grumpy, but you haven’t coughed once since I’ve stepped through the door,” Kili smiles at the unhappy scowl directed at him, changing into his sleeping shirt and climbing next to Fili. He kisses his overly-warm forehead, gaining some degree of absolution and allows Fili to curl up to his side and into the crook of his arm. His hands automatically fall into the rhythm of soothing swirls over Fili’s back causing a shiver that is more pleasure than fever.

“Stay?” his friend asks, and he’s always uncharacteristically hesitant when he wants something for himself, but he’s feeling under the weather, and companionship means more to him right now, than all the home remedies he’s been fed.

“Of course,” Kili agrees, watching tired eyes slide shut once again. “Sleep, Fili. I’ll be right here.”

Somehow, among all the lies, it suddenly seems important to protect his memories, those real ones.

Kili remembers catching a cold once, when he was little. Being forced to stay in bed for an eight-year-old was an equivalent of a death-by-boredom sentence, even if he didn’t feel strong enough to make it any further than the kitchen. But it was the day the first snow fell that year and from his ground floor bedroom he could hear all the other children making forts and having snowball fights outside, without him.

As far as Kili was concerned, the world hated him.

Until a certain blond head appeared in his window.

Fili found himself a box to stand on, tucked his hood over his head so he wasn’t taking too much damage from the snowballs inevitably raining over him, and was trying to scrape off the frost, so he could peer inside.

Kili realised at that point that he found a true friend for life.

He got out of bed, padded to the window and they spent the next half hour writing secret messages and drawing in the condensation from their breaths, giggling all the while at this new, fantastic game they found, which nobody else could join.

Eventually Kili’s mother caught them, but to his surprise, rather than get angry, she motioned for Fili to come inside.

That was the first time Fili was allowed to stay in Kili’s room and one of the best days of Kili’s entire childhood.

While others screeched around and got soaked in the cold, the two friends stayed warm and cosy and Kili’s toys somehow seemed much more exciting, when newly discovered by Fili’s hands. Although Kili stayed in bed this time, Fili sprawled happily on a pillow next to it and they played pirates on the edge of the bed. There was hot cocoa and laughter and Kili forgot that he was feeling poorly.

Two days later of course, Fili was ill.

When Kili climbed the familiar staircase to ask if his friend was allowed to come outside and play, he heard shouting, as Fili’s parents argued. There were words Kili didn’t understand back then, but they scared him and he escaped, feeling guilty, but not entirely sure why. It was more than a decade later, when he was sat in the darkness of Fili’s pantry and his mind wandered back to those events, that he finally understood the meaning of those words.

Sometimes it was hard to comprehend how all of his life, every kind memory that mattered, seemed to happen in exactly the same spaces as the horrors of War. The streets they walked to school were the same streets where Kili’s friends got shot. Fili’s bedroom, which Kili had only seen once as a child when his parents weren’t home, rediscovered a week after the end of the War, when he walked in, searching for their cat.

Everything was both old and new in a way, familiar, yet deadly, and in the chaos of it all was Fili – the only person whose loyalty was never in question.

Kili peers at the blond head in his arms and it occurs to him that the same way his younger self just wanted to be distracted from his illness, he was never able to return the favour for the love of his life.

Fili feels too hot still, but his breaths are slow and deep, and he must feel comfortable just where he is, because he hasn’t moved a muscle since he dozed off, content to be curled up half on top of Kili.

He will be there for Fili when he wakes up, and by the time he has made a full recovery, Kili will have bought him a new pair of winter boots, made waterproof with reindeer fat and lined with thick furs that will keep him warm, he decides.

“She said she was proud of us,” he whispers half to himself and half because he wants to share this with Fili. The blond doesn’t react, but it’s okay, because Kili will be happy to tell him again when he wakes up.

 

\---


	5. I Want It

_February 1947_

 

 

Later, Kili will remember how it felt, not what they did.

He will remember the hours they spent wrapped up in each other, their lazy kisses, the way their limbs pushed against each other and fit in exactly right, the heat of Fili’s skin, the dusting of the crinkly hair under his fingertips and the shivers of pleasure running down his spine. Sometimes Fili’s hands tease him enough that he’s half-hard; other times it just feels good and right and comfortable to stay close like this and he relaxes instead.

“I want it,” he whispers at some point into the salt he’s tasting on the column of Fili’s throat and feels the quiet gasp it causes. “I want it all. You inside me. I know you spoke to Bilbo.”

“Kili –“ Fili murmurs, nudging his forehead with his chin, demanding to see him even at this awkward angle.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Kili insists, keeping his eyes steady on Fili, now that they’ve found each other. “I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to have you like that, to feel you in _there_.”

“I don’t know… If I can do this right,” Fili whispers, but Kili can feel his cock filling up, pressed tight against his hip, can feel Fili’s heartbeat, against his skin.

“You didn’t know any of the other things we did, either,” he returns, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, teasing. “We’ve always figured it out together and you’ve never hurt me.”

Kili watches the risks being weighed in Fili’s eyes, sees the desire but also concern. He leans in to kiss him on a soft chuckle, deep and full of love, tongue slipping past his lips so he can calm the storm of Fili’s thoughts, reassure him and offer familiar comfort. It hasn’t taken him long to learn how to do this – to take Fili’s troubled mind and keep it at bay for him, gently return a thought after thought, untangled, with each softening kiss. “We don’t have to,” he offers against damp lips, kissing the corner of Fili’s mouth, “if you’re not sure about this. You know I won’t mind. But you will have to do something about _this_ -“ he hisses through eses as his hips greedily thrust against Fili’s soft lower belly to get his point across.

A growl is his response and he revels in the feeling of Fili’s strong hands on his ass, slamming them flush, making their lengths grind against each other. There’s a challenge in Fili’s face, in the intensity of his eyes, as he shuffles higher, pulling Kili with him, letting his hands roam across Kili’s back.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Kili chuckles, sucking on the sensitive skin under Fili’s ear.

“You will tell me if it hurts.” It’s not a question, but it requires an answer all the same.

“Yes.”

For a time it’s back to heated kisses, pressing together urgently, whispered ‘I love you’s’ and the quiet urgency of their movements. The closeness makes them feel safe, the kisses pressed to each other’s skin are like little seals, locking their souls together. They look into each other’s eyes as Kili relaxes more and more into whatever Fili wants to do, makes himself comfortable in his lap, lets him push him higher and higher but carefully control that Kili remains rooted in the present, with him.

He trembles when the pad of Fili’s finger gently rubs his nipple, while another slips inside his entrance, slick and stroking him at the same pace from inside. They press forehead to forehead and breathe together, like they do sometimes when one gets to the edge too fast.

“Still good?” Fili rumbles close, watching him and taking his time driving him insane.

“Oh, so good, Fili, so good…” He’s babbling of course, wishing FIli would touch his cock, but at the same time wanting his hands exactly where they are.

This is still familiar territory at this point – they have used fingers on each other before, they know they both like it.

Fili kisses him, deep and slow, distracting from the thrum of pleasure buzzing through his veins. Kili takes his face in both of his hands, rubs gently at his soft, crinkly stubble and kisses back, kisses with abandon, with need, with love, with desire he feels.

It’s evolved into a language between them, a whole dialogue of give and take and this particular line is ‘more. I love you, I need you to have me completely, I need you now.’

Fili sighs into the kiss, a sigh of agreement, moves to the corner of his mouth and then his jawline, as he pulls his attention away to pour more oil over his fingers.

“Easy, Kili. Not too fast…” he murmurs, gently pressing two inside him and this time Kili can feel them slowly opening him up. They’ve only tried this once or twice, usually in the heat of the moment, and it feels different when they’re not yet quite so close.

“Kili?” Fili asks when he’s fallen silent, nudging his face up delicately with his fingers under his chin. “Kili, what’s wrong?”

Nothing’s wrong, it’s just that Kili can’t help but focus on the feeling, so he huffs and demands –

“Touch me. Or put your fingers back where they were.”

He can feel Fili’s grin before he can see it. “I am, sweetheart. That’s what you’re feeling. Right. Here.”

Kili has got half of a clever response on his lips when Fili _taps_ him inside, gently, and instead it comes out as a strangled moan, deftly kissed away by Fili’s warm lips.

“You – You know what I mean!” he growls instead, arching up when Fili wraps his fingers around his erection and slides them down, hard, while simultaneously driving his fingers _up_.

Fili does it again and again, letting Kili hide in the crook of his shoulder, nibbling weakly at his pulse point, before he starts spreading his fingers wider.

“Like this?” He asks, and it would sound almost innocent, if not for the low thrum of need in his voice and his wandering lips, kissing Kili’s hair, searching for his face.

It is delightful and hot when Fili is in a playful mood and Kili is glad that it seems to have replaced his earlier hesitation. It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t try to reign his reactions in, instead uses his whole body to show Fili that it’s okay.

“Yes. Yes, that’s good. I need you. I need you, Fili, before you push me too far.”

They know each other’s limits, have tested them time and time again and they don’t mind talking about them if it means they can get things to get even better. Kili feels twitchy with need, but at the same time it seems too easy, this climb on which Fili is pulling him and it’s not what he had in mind.

He senses a pause, a little flicker of doubt in Fili’s touch and he moves to kiss it away before Fili can overthink this again. “I love you. I trust you. I trusted you with my life, and you’re the only person I’ll ever trust with my body. Please, I want us to have it. Together,” he whispers, his fingers cheating by massaging the back of Fili’s scalp, while he pushes himself back onto the invading digits. “Will you help me through this?” He asks, pulling back and looking Fili deep in the eye, his face once again in Kili’s hands, because this, now, is important, and if Fili still isn’t sure, then Kili will back off, will find something else that will make them come loud and satisfied.

He sees adoration, naked and bright, love, obvious and steady and an array of other emotions, which somehow make Fili’s eyes glimmer suspiciously.

“No, don’t go there. Don’t go into the past. Stay here with me, make me come,” Kili hisses, delivering a hundred little kisses like charms of protection.

He will remember this exact moment later, the very second when Fili decided to trust himself, and admitted, “You don’t know. You don’t know, how long I’ve –“

“Except I do. I’ve been there almost all of your life, remember?” he chuckles, grinding his cock against Fili’s urgently, making them both moan. “Make love to me, Fili.”

He will remember the stretch and the burn when Fili first pushes in – Kili on his back now, his legs splayed wide open.

Everything is slippery and Kili suspects Fili might have used more oil than they needed, and it feels odd, this slow, careful advance, filling him up. He’s not sure what to focus on, between the feeling of Fili’s length inside him, Fili’s fingers gently teasing the head of his cock, bringing little sparks of pleasure, and his other hand, stroking soothingly over the sensitive underside of his thigh. He pants through it all, closing his eyes, trying to relax and just breathe, until he can feel Fili’s stomach pressing against the swell of his ass.

“Kili. Kili, look at me.”

He does, finding love and concern and such furious focus in Fili’s eyes, that for a moment he wants to laugh, but he doesn’t dare move.

“Does it hurt?”

“N-No,” Kili breathes, and this is true; it doesn’t hurt, he just isn’t sure how to feel about it.

It’s almost secondary to _here_ and _now_ and later the physical sensations will be eclipsed by the realisation of how much Fili holds him completely in his hands in that moment, when his fingers on Kili’s cock move lower, starting full, slow, tight strokes along the whole length. More than that, Kili’s ass is raised on top of Fili’s hips, his legs lifted along Fili’s stomach and chest, comfortable and warm along his skin. He feels vulnerable like this, splayed open and raised, but also protected and strangely pleased to be doing this together.

“Are you sure?” one of Fili’s hands wraps around his shin, heavy and reassuring, and tucks it closer so Fili can kiss it.

Kili smiles. It’s so much like Fili to get tactile when he feels hesitant and it resonates perfectly with Kili’s need for distracting touch right now, when he finally feels like he’s getting used to the feeling of Fili inside him.

“Move. Slowly…” he orders instead of answering, and Fili obeys, hips rolling back only a fraction before pressing closer once again. He does it on a low sigh full of pleasure and it’s beautiful how his face relaxes with the slow stroke and for that alone Kili would let him do it again and again.

There is a certain satisfaction in being able to give like this, and although it’s nowhere near as electrifying as when they use their hands or fingers, Kili begins to understand how it can be good, in a different way.

It’s only tiny, miniscule movements rolling through him at the moment and that’s easy, something that Kili can get used to, gradually moulding together with the rest of the pleasurable sensations – Fili’s hands moving to travel the length of his body, stroking over his legs, thighs, ass – pulling him gently onto himself, and oh, that’s _better_ , moving onto his hips and wrapping around his waist.

Kili is so lost in Fili’s touch, in Fili’s deepening breaths and his gorgeous blown pupils, that he almost misses the shift in weight, as his legs are lowered, and suddenly he’s being flipped until he finds himself astride Fili’s pelvis, cradled and supported around his waist by Fili’s arms.

Something shifts and Kili cries out, making Fili go as still as a statue.

“I’m sorry –“

“No!” he insists, pinning Fili to the bed on a huff. “It’s just – it’s just deep. It’s okay,” he pants, shifting a little to get more purchase with his knees and raise himself.

They stay still like this for a moment, both trying to get used to the new position, and Kili laces his fingers together with Fili’s, helping himself stay upright.

“You didn’t hurt me. I was just surprised,“ he murmurs and carefully lowers himself to stretch along Fili’s body so he can get to his mouth and steal several much needed kisses.

Fili’s hands are all over him in an instant, roaming across his back, lowering to his ass and even – making him blush furiously – gingerly touching where they’re connected.

“I’m sorry…” Fili whispers again into Kili’s swollen lips. “You were beginning to look relaxed and I thought – You’ll be in control like this. You’ll be able to take it how you want it, so I don’t –“

“Shhhh…” Kili murmurs, because he doesn’t think Fili would ever be able to hurt him, no matter how wild he got.

He’s not entirely sure how this is supposed to work now, but Fili’s hands are there once again, guiding him, helping him raise himself a little more and then sink back. This is different somehow, the dynamic is different, and he can feel _more_ as he uses his knees to lift himself up and lower himself down onto the hard length.

Later he will remember at this point feeling full and stretched open, his body not quite sure what to do with this constant movement through him, but at the same time more emboldened. It’s much more physical now, perhaps because he has to think about the rhythm and the depth, trying not to slip too low again, feeling the effort in the muscles of his thighs. It’s more debauched, something like shame with desire running through his veins as he tries to make himself take more - and burning up as he is, that is not a bad thing.

“Kili –“ he watches Fili raise himself first to his elbows and then sit up, supporting himself with his arms locked behind him. “Kili, stop. You look uncomfortable,” he whispers softly into the crook of Kili’s shoulder, as if he was talking to a spooked animal.

Kili’s fingers comb through the messy blond tresses automatically, pushing them away from Fili’s face, before he wraps both his arms around his shoulders and presses his face into the familiar smell of Fili’s hair. He feels safe inside the loose embrace and allows Fili’s hand at the small of his back to slow him down, to impale himself carefully, but all the way, earning a ragged, barely controlled moan against his ear.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, it feels good, you inside me, so deep…” He murmurs back constantly, letting himself just feel and talk and share this experience with Fili. “I want it, I want you right there, is it okay I want it?”

“You need to be comfortable, Kili. I want this to be good for you. You’re so tight around me, Kili, I don’t want to hurt you. We need to make it better for you.”

The heated whispers surround them for a few long minutes, unwilling to still their hips, but also unwilling to take more until they have figured it out. But with each long thrust it’s getting easier and soon Kili is experimenting, grinding down and rolling his pelvis in a tight circle, wide-eyed and craving the best angle, making Fili gasp and press his fingers into Kili’s skin.

Later, Kili will remember how his whole body twitches when he finds _something_ , how it makes him feel unbalanced and wild and the same look reflected in Fili’s eyes when he can feel it too. A tiny push forward from Fili’s hand and he finds it again, cries out this time –

“Fi – Fili!”

“Okay?”

Kili doesn’t answer, just smashes their lips together, kissing into Fili’s mouth greedily, a bit gleeful, a bit pleased with himself, a bit because he’s overwhelmed with what he feels, because this now is familiar kind of desire, escalating and making him dizzy, the kind of desire that Fili has to hold him through.

“Lean back. I think it will help if you lean back, love,” and Kili always marvels at how free Fili is with his endearments when they are alone, as if he was compensating for all the times when he’s not allowed to say anything. “You need to be more –“

“Down,” he orders, because Fili’s arms are trembling with the effort by now, pushing at Fili to lay him flat once again. “I’ve got this.”

“Just –“

“Aaaahn!”

They both scramble for a moment, Kili planting his feet flat on the bed, to ease the burn in his thighs and Fili too pushing his legs up to help support him.

The feeling Kili experiences next, he will never forget.

It’s _deep_ , and the head of Fili’s cock rubs wonderfully against the little bundle of nerves inside Kili, making his own erection jump against his stomach. They groan in unison before Kili tries it again, shamelessly chasing his pleasure, finding it, moaning and setting a faster, more determined rhythm.

 _Now_ it’s about taking; about hard thrusts and coiling themselves tight, about holding on and riding the waves together.

But it’s also about _trust_. About trust and love and the things they do to each other.

He watches Fili react to his writhing, watches his lips fall open and his pupils grow so dilated, he’s not sure Fili can see him anymore. Within a few more thrusts Fili’s hand closes around Kili’s straining cock, stroking him perfectly, gloriously in rhythm, while his other hand is on the skin of his thigh, seeking any contact it can.

He can see the fraying control, can _feel_ it in the resounding impact deep inside him, when Fili’s hips _finally_ move as well, once, twice, three times, again and again. His ears catch the hoarse whispers like prayers, like worship, “Kili, aaaah, Kili, Kili, _Kili_ ,” his name falling from Fili’s lips like he wants to hear it always. His ass is throbbing and he can’t tell any more if it’s from the stretch or the pulsing pleasure spilling within him, he only knows that he’s suspended somehow, between the tight coil of Fili’s fist on his cock and the fullness inside him and he’s about to fall apart.

It’s perhaps the most erotic thing he’s ever felt – Fili, wild, completely out of control, hips thrusting hard up into Kili’s willing body, thrashing underneath him as he falls over the edge from the feeling of Kili surrounding him so completely. He comes on a cry of Kili’s name, filling him with the hot rush of his release, and Kili’s own pleasure turns white hot and scalding, throbbing turning into a rhythmic clench, as he spills helplessly all over Fili’s fingers and stomach.

Kili will remember the way Fili held him through his orgasm, suddenly pulling him down to wrap his arms around him, gasping softly from his overly sensitive erection still trapped inside Kili’s body. He will remember the kisses raining around him, the shivers running down his spine and the strange sense of peace.

He will remember being untouchable then and there, being loved and complete like never before.

“I want to share this with you, I want to show you how it feels,” Kili will whisper later, when he’s sprawled comfortably in a bath and Fili is washing his hair for him. He knows he can’t describe it in words, how it made him feel to be able to do this, but it’s been a trend throughout their lives that they have always shared all the best and worst things together.

“I know,” a murmur and a kiss to his forehead. “I want it too.”

It won’t be today and it won’t be tomorrow. It will be when Fili is rested and relaxed, when the mood is right and they feel brave. It will be when Fili asks for it.

And Kili will remember that time too, bright and precious, and the way Fili looked when he fell apart around him, the way he sounded, and the way Kili kept him whole.

 

\---


	6. Bookshops and Snow

_March 1947_

 

 

“Hurry up Kili, or we’re going to be late and he’ll drive off without us!” Fili calls out, eyes scanning the sky and trying to predict what the weather will do.

The love of Fili’s life emerges from their cabin hopping precariously on one leg, waging war against his laces and looking visibly distraught at the thought of missing his chance to go to the bookshop.

“Whoa, steady!” Fili offers, catching Kili by the shoulders and helping support him as the younger finishes off the bow.

“I swear Fili, on the way back we’re ordering a pair of boots just like yours, with the snaps! These are quite worn down anyway.”

“Alright, but you know it will be at least a week before they’re ready,” he replies, heading back inside to grab Kili’s coat for him. “Now come on, before we have to run all the way to the town.”

In the end they make it on time, but mainly because Bofur waits for them, merrily chatting to Bilbo and sipping tea from a small thermos he has brought with him.

Bofur’s old, beaten truck doesn’t look particularly impressive, but the mechanic keeps it in top condition and it quickly becomes Fili’s and Kili’s only link to civilisation. It’s their monthly trip to Sund – the nearest decent-sized city. The arrangement suits both parties: Bofur picks up spare parts he needs to conduct repairs in his workshop, while the boys cover off any of their more sophisticated shopping and help push the truck out of the snowdrifts, when they get stuck.

Books are repeatedly top positions on their wish list, although they have also recently acquired a brand new gramophone, so from time to time their peaceful island comes alive with the sounds of the latest vinyl recording.

They exchange friendly greetings and a few teasing remarks for a moment, before scrambling onto the low bench in the back of the lorry, quickly spreading out the blankets in which they will wrap themselves up.

It takes two and a half hours to reach Sund. If the roads aren’t too bad, that is.

On the freezing, windswept plains of Swedish lowlands keeping warm becomes a matter of life or death. Whilst Bofur’s wonderful truck always gets them to their destination, it does really only have one spare seat in the driver’s cab, and neither of them would agree to leave the other to sit alone in the back.

So instead they huddle together, wrapped up to well over their ears and with a thick fur spread over their legs. It’s almost cosy like this, watching the scenery fly by, illuminated in the low starlight of the dark Northern day. They also have their own flask of hot tea for when it gets really bad, tucked away in their old, trusty satchel, the same one that held their maps and dictionary as they made their way through the War-torn Europe.

It’s not exactly a pleasant journey in the back of the truck, but it’s a unique experience, full of adventure, bubbling excitement, and the warmth of each other’s bodies in a way which they will always find nostalgic.

 

\---

 

The city of Sund has got two fairly-well stocked bookshops and Fili and Kili are friends with the owners of both.

It doesn’t come as a surprise therefore, when Kili practically bounds inside, already laden with a bag of shopping, and sends the elderly gentleman behind the counter a rosy-cheeked grin brighter than the sun itself on most days.

“Kili, my lad! Good to see you. Running a bit late today?”

“We got stuck twice! And that’s just the truck. And then my brother got stuck once too, all by himself, up to his thighs in the snow. You should have seen his face, Mikkla!”

Fili lingers behind for a moment, allowing himself an annoyed little huff and choosing to postpone having to describe his ordeal to the bookseller, now that Kili has swiftly disappeared between the aisles.

“I see the new hinges are doing well, then? And the doorbell?” He asks instead, hoping to distract Mikkla’s attention.

“I never thought those doors could open without that horrible squeak!” the older man rushes to shake his hand in both of his. “You have truly done a fine job and you charged a decent price. I’ve never been so glad for anyone’s history interest, as when it brought you to my doors.”

Fili smiles broadly at his patron. “It’s only fair – we seem to be leaving half of our wages with you every time we visit, I figured it was time we worked some of it back. Next time you need anything – floors scrubbed, windows cleaned – I’ll send Kili and he’ll happily work for books.”

They both chuckle, but in truth it’s good to have people who can recommend you, here in the city. Especially as Sund doesn’t have a blacksmith of its own.

After all – little repairs like this one are Fili’s livelihood.

Fili looks around curiously, wondering whatever happened to Kili. Normally by now his friend would be tugging him impatiently to show him whichever book caught his eye this time. But the bookshop remains eerily quiet.

He eventually finds Kili with a photo album in his hands entitled _Europe On Her Knees_ , staring with unseeing eyes at the black and white photographs of Warsaw, raised practically to the ground.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Fili whispers, taking the book from Kili’s stiff fingers and putting it back carefully onto the shelf. “That one’s not for you, Kili. We’re in the wrong section.”

He takes brunet’s wrist in his hand and gives it a warm, reassuring squeeze. It feels like a poor excuse for a tight hug he really wants to offer, but it will have to do in this semi-public place they’re in now.

Kili blinks and looks him deep in the eye for a moment, not saying a word.

He doesn’t have to.

Fili understands, like he always does.

The brunet swallows thickly, but allows himself to be tugged gently towards their favourite travel and fiction sections.

“Thanks,” he murmurs finally, offering a tiny smile. They have learned to be there for each other, even when they can’t openly show affection.

“Come on, let’s find ourselves something interesting for the coming evenings,” Fili encourages gently, turning to the books around them. “And remind me later to pick up some more paraffin.”

By now they have read through all of the books that were left in the cabin, even those on the topics they didn’t care for much – fishing or navigation. There is a small corner in the spare bedroom containing crime dramas and murder mysteries, which Fili adores and Kili hands over wordlessly.

They both love books, and a part of Fili sometimes wonders what his life would look like if he was allowed to finish his university degree, if he’d plunge himself into the world of academia instead of finding his purpose in working with metal.

They can both spend hours reverently touching the spines of new books surrounding them, breathing in their specific smell, and revelling in the feeling of coarse paper against their fingertips, but having arrived late there isn’t that much time left to choose.

Fili is always amused by the expression akin to worship on Kili’s face in such moments; not that he’s going to say anything – it is precious and rare enough to see him like this and Fili is happy to thumb through the pages himself.

Books have truly been Kili’s salvation, in more ways than one.

They try to limit the number of books they buy to those they like absolute best – books aren’t cheap, or easy to transport in bulk, and they’re running out of space for putting up shelves in their cabin.

On that score Fili misses the library, although he’s not about to admit it. He misses its peace and quiet and wealth of knowledge there, all those stories read out in Kili’s voice, and the space they created wrapped up in words, like an eye of a cyclone raging on around them. Nobody used to try and talk to him in the library, ask him questions or speculate as to why Fili wasn’t at the frontlines. If not for Kili waiting for him at home, Fili could have stayed in the library forever.

But the bookshop in a way is even better because Fili gets to keep all his old friends forever, carefully transported, wrapped up in brown packing paper or sometimes old newspaper pages, and tied with a length of packing string.

They will both be returning clutching the precious little bundles close to their chests and if it rains, safely tucked away under their coats, grinning like lunatics with their latest purchases.

“Do you think I can have two?” Kili asks, pulling Fili from his thoughts, frowning at the two volumes in his hands.

“It’s your money, Kili. And you’ve worked hard for it, slaving away with Bofur. You’re free to spend it however you like.” Fili smiles at his best friend, watching the scowl be replaced by an expression of absolute glee, when Kili thoughtfully places his books together.

Within a couple of minutes Fili too has found something that’s piqued his interest – a thick volume on the history of Scotland.

Satisfied with their choices they head back to the till -

Only to stop dead in their tracks.

Right in front of the entrance, meticulously arranged into a steep pyramid stands a display of a book called _Three Hundred And Forty Miles Under The Sky Full Of Your Stars_ by Kimi Stormbjorn.

Kili’s book.

The cover is elegant – all black, except for what looks like a hand-drawn colourful pattern near the bottom, tempting with the shiny sleeve and crisp white pages.

Kili seems to be moving without any conscious thought as he takes one in his hands and runs gentle fingertips over the shiny paper. He looks as if he’s just met an old friend and can’t quite let himself believe it to be real.

“Ah, I see our latest bestseller caught your eye,” Mikkla comes closer, smiling gently at the way Kili seems to have forgotten about the whole wide world. “Quite rightly so. It will be right up your street.”

Fili allows himself a little private smile. The bookseller doesn’t know of course that Kili is the author – nobody knows except Fili, Bilbo, Bofur and the publisher. His opinion therefore should be honest. “Oh? And have you read it? What did you think about it?”

“Fili!” Kili hisses, but –

“I haven’t. Not yet, at least. Brought a copy home with me the other night, but my daughter got her sticky paws on it first,” the Swede smiles apologetically. “Hasn’t let it out of her sight since, I’m afraid, but she seems to feel positively ready to marry the book. Said it was…” Mikkla searches his mind for a moment for the exact words, “ _unique_. Apparently wins you over with the plot, but keeps you hooked with the way the characters are constructed. To be honest, I’ve started going through it in the shop, when the customers are scarce, just to satisfy my own curiosity.”

“Did you really?” Fili encourages, beaming at Kili, who for some reason has grown about as red as a brick and strangely quiet. “Well, with such a glowing reviews we shall have to have it!” he decides, pulling the volume out of Kili’s nerveless fingers and putting it on the counter.

“We don’t _need_ it!” Kili argues, looking even more flustered.

“Yes, we do. We need it very much indeed,” Fili practically purrs, pleased with himself and having the time of his life. “I absolutely _have to_ have it in my collection,” he insists.

Mikkla looks between the two of them, utterly confused, but when there only seems to be a silent glare from Kili, having little effect on Fili’s smug grin, he obediently starts wrapping all four books.

After all, it isn’t the first time an entire conversation seems to have passed between the brothers without a single word being uttered.

They wait until they are well outside the lights of the city, bundled up once again and dizzy with the quiet pleasure of having new books to read before Fili leans in, face half hidden by the edge of the blanket and kisses Kili deeply on the bubbling laughter beginning to spill between them.

 

\---


	7. Africa

_November 1947_

 

 

The sleepy town of Kisumu, rather unsurprisingly, has only one post office.

Most choose to keep whatever letters they might have until they reach a much bigger city of Kampala to the North, or pass them, for a small fee, directly to a captain of one of the many small ships prowling the mighty river Nile, who will post it in one of the bigger ports with an airport on their way.

Ngyato – the post office’s supervisor, postman and the only employee isn’t therefore expecting much of a customer spike, even when the merciless sun reaches its peak and most of the town residents take their customary break in the day.

He is most certainly _not_ expecting a foreigner to step through his door.

The man sticks out like a baobab tree in the savannah – even with his long hair tied back in a low pony tail and mostly hidden away by a hat, his short, neatly trimmed beard, pale carnation and piercing blue eyes give him away in an instant. And then there is something about the way he moves – with confidence and strength, as his curious gaze takes in the dark, shaded inside of Ngayto’s office.

They stare at each other for a long moment, before the man approaches with a single envelope in his hand.

“Hujambo,” he greets in passable Swahili, but like most foreigners, he switches to English after that. Ngyato doesn’t consider himself by far an expert, but his words sound too harsh and rigid in his soft, low voice, to be native for the blond.

It takes some careful sign gestures and slow pronunciation to establish that the letter is going to Germany, and no less than _half_ the stamps that Ngyato keeps in stock, carefully arranged to fit on the face of the crumpled envelope are needed to complete the transaction and apply the correct postage.

“Will go two weeks,” Ngyato attempts, watching the foreigner count out the money. He thinks to explain how the man from Kampala only arrives only once a week to collect and deliver mail and how the blond has missed the collection only this morning, and how even in Kampala it takes time for the plane to arrive, but that seems to be more English words than come to his mind just then. In the end he settles for “is far,” and a sympathetic shrug.

“Two weeks is just fine,” the blond assures him, sending him a peculiar smile, full of dimples.

Ngyato stares at the heavily stamped letter in his hands for a long moment after his unusual customer has left. Having worked at the post office all his life, he rarely wonders what people actually post these days – that mystery has lost its charm many years ago.

But he does wonder now.

The letter is heavy enough to contain at least several pages, but not heavy enough to likely hold any money or anything of value. Nevertheless, the crumpled, frail-looking envelope looks like it’s been through a lot, as if it was carried around for a while. It feels like the paper in his hands holds a story, perhaps a fascinating story, and who knows what secrets, which Ngyato has the power to discover for himself.

After all, mail from remote locations like Kisumu frequently gets lost in transit.

But the postage has already been paid and Ngyato takes his job seriously, so the letter ends up in the sack with the others.

He steps outside into the hot, heavy air of the town square to see if he can gauge any more clues from the man’s appearance or the companions he keeps, irrationally intrigued by where the blond came from and where he’s going to.

But the square is empty, not even dust dancing in the air and it’s as if the man never existed in the first place.

 

\---

 

> _Dearest Mother and Father,_
> 
> _I am writing this letter because the parents I remember would want to know the truth, no matter how difficult it might be._
> 
> _I want you to know that I’m alive and well. More than that, I am truly happy, for the first time in many years, and I finally know what it is to love and be loved in return._
> 
> _You won’t find me and I will never come home, which you might think for the best, once you have read this letter. You may try to trace it, but I will be long gone from the place where it has been posted._
> 
> _Nevertheless, I believe my father would want to know what happened to me and my mother would cherish an understanding of the events that made me do what I did. You will forever have a place in my heart, the way I remember you in our happier days, although I will never have any response from you._
> 
> _Perhaps in time you will be able to find peace, like I have._
> 
> _Before I say anything else, I need you to understand this: everything I did, I did of my own free will, because I felt it was the right thing to do and because I could act no different. It is a part of who I am, who I have always been, uninfluenced by others. There were many things I did during the War, which make me feel ashamed, but I have been true to myself in what really matters._
> 
> _You will remember a Jewish boy named Kili, who used to be my best friend. In November 1943 I got a chance to save him from certain death – a chance I took and never looked back._
> 
> _(...)_

 

\---


	8. Sea Salt and Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, still not done.

_June 1945_

 

 

The first time Fili hears Kili laugh openly is on the train, somewhere along the Baltic coastline.

It isn't the first _first_ time of course, but it is the first time since Kili... was returned to him.

And it is _marvellous_.

Kili sticks his head out of the open window, just a little, hair whipping wildly around his face in the salty sea breeze and they'd give a lot to be able to just get off the train and go swimming; swimming and splashing in the inviting cool waves, and just be young and carefree and possibly try to pull each other under by the ankles.

It would be far too dangerous of course.

But some part of Fili clings to the fancy notion that perhaps the train might break down somewhere in the middle of nowhere and perhaps it could take a few hours for the train to be repaired and they might be allowed this small luxury.

But for now he has Kili’s laughter. The real one, unstifled and there’s no need to keep it quiet anymore and Fili feels a corresponding grin stretch his own face.

It feels like freedom, for the first time; and neither of them has ever known this feeling of being able to do whatever they want, standing up in the middle of a rhythmically swaying compartment, breathing a little bit deeper and having dreams.

It is dangerous and foolish, when Fili stands up too and moves behind Kili, both his arms flat against the glass, bracketing him and leaning in close; closer than he could explain if anyone was to walk in.

But if there was ever the time to be foolish and follow their instincts, it is now.

Kili turns around slowly and very deliberately; flushed with excitement, his hands finding their way to rest steadily on either side of Fili’s hips – virgin territory still, uncharted with this new intent.

He isn’t running any more when he ducks his head and watches Fili’s face.

One more step and they are kissing, right there, against that open window, bodies swaying steadily into the rhythm of tudud-tudu and it’s hardly a quick, stolen kiss.

A contact of lips, shared breaths and something soft, something careful and loving and full of laughter between them.

They lean into each other, lean close, tucked and held against the cool glass and the taste of possibilities, and damn everybody who might get an eyeful.

A quiet symphony in that little space hey have created; in blurred seascape and carefully protected hope.

 

\---


	9. Close, Closer, Inside Your Skin

_May 1945_

 

 

He isn’t scared.

He thinks he should be, but they have danced around each other for years and deep under his skin he feels like he will combust unless Kili puts out the sparks dancing along his neurons.

He doesn’t resist when Kili peels away his layers, strips him of social convention, duty, shame and finally, even the need to protect.

It isn’t a single touch when Kili finally cups his raw heart in the warm palms of his hands; it’s one hundred touches, each of them familiar as breathing, when he is captured and leashed and made to let himself go.

Insane freedom feels exactly the same as chains that will never be removed from his bleeding wrists.

He closes his eyes, and inhales his Kili, like he’s the only breath he ever wanted to hold in his lungs, and drowns in the way Kili’s hands tremble as they push them past each unspeakable boundary and into oblivion.

He catches them, pins them down above the chocolate-coloured strands and soothes, in the kindest, most gentle way he knows how, because as raw and open as he feels, this should never be anything other than safe and good and right.

It isn’t even about the desire and he doesn’t quite understand why it should be, ever, for anyone, when he has this much skin all to himself, this much breath, and life, and pulse, and the endless depths of the big, dark eyes. He imagines it will take him millennia just to conquer those, just to learn them by heart, to understand them completely and imprint them on his soul.

And that is merely the flesh; it’s nothing, compared to who Kili is, to all his nooks and crannies, that may forever go undiscovered.

It feels unusual for everything inside him to be this quiet, to be this peaceful and unafraid, when he wraps himself around a too-thin body and lets their skin rub together until it ignites with sensation.

He knows he will never be able to quit it, that in all of his life this will be his most precious memory, the most whole he will ever feel.

Kili will be the only one ever capable of saving him.

He isn’t scared of that either.

They could kiss and chase the pleasure – they vaguely know such a thing is possible – but it’s not what they want. Instead they wrap around each other until not a single inch of skin feels neglected, they revel in touch and shared breaths, half moans and little hiccups that mean that another great mystery has been unlocked.

He thinks it was worth it, everything was worth it, and there is no exaggeration at all when he thinks that to die for this, would be cheap.

Two naked bodies, shipwrecked into each other, trembling under the plain linen sheets, softened with use; dogs barking somewhere in the distance and the shuffle of feet above them. Their breathing synchronised like it’s always been, little tiny fragments of words, like chips of glass polished into jewels on the shores of the sea that used to be the distance between them.

It would be nothing to someone else. It’s _everything_ to them.

He can feel the tears trailing along his cheek and he can’t tell who they belong to, fingertips clawing at him, that could be his own, and the exchange of essence between them when one chest is only allowed to expand when the other one contracts, because there isn’t the space between them for anything else.

Just this: just warmth, just touch and the easy feeling of being together; tight and snug and theirs, hidden away from the world in the bracket of each other’s arms, pushed aside by the confines of the crook of each other’s necks.

He knows they are close when he can feel Kili’s taste travelling in his bloodstream, when it sinks into the marrow of his bones and he lets that heartbeat fill him until he can’t take it anymore, until he’s so full of contact that he can finally believe.

 _Yours_ , everything screams and Fili relaxes into the searing brand of belonging.

 _Kili’s_.

He isn’t scared.

He’s not sure he could ever be scared again, or that he’s known fear ever before.

Not when there is a gentle brush of cheek against cheek, beard against rough stubble like continental plates drifting along each other’s edges. He looks into the soft hazel of Kili’s eyes, clear like a forest after a deluge and he sees trust there, endless and spilling like the ocean and he knows that his own gaze holds the same expression.

Now is the time for kisses; like an afterthought.

A satisfied sigh and a press of lips to the corner of Kili’s mouth, because the love between them always went without saying.

They always had each other, but now they also have this:

More than a keyhole view, more than the whispers in the dark, more than dreams and memories intermingling, and this ever-present longing that used to wear him down to the bone.

He thinks they will never separate again, that they will stay like this forever, and when the God decides to end the world (again), He will have to walk into their tenement and rip them apart, because they will never, ever let each other go.

If this is obsession, if he has finally descended into the hell of insanity, if it destroys him even, until he is nothing but burned-through ashes, he doesn’t care.

He isn’t scared.

How could he be, when in his arms he holds breath and life, sleepy movements and mumbled phrases that sound like love. Wild hair that must never be tamed, temper and loyalty, a little unrestrainable fragment of Creation, which is his and his alone.

It is worth more than the world, than whole universes put together.

And isn’t it ironic, that life has never been so cheap, and yet Fili is the wealthiest man alive?

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://linane-art.tumblr.com/).


	10. Don't Pull!

_ _

_May 1938_

 

“Ow, don’t pull!”

“I’m not pulling, you’re _moving_! Stop squirming.”

“I’m not _squirming_ , you’re totally pulling too hard, I can feel it tugging at my skin! I told you, it’s still new and delicate!”

Kili smirks. Fili’s latest claim to fame is his beard, and the ridiculous moustache that goes with it. The moustache currently resting in his hands.

 

\---

 

Kili _tries_ to reason with his friend, he really does.

“You need to trim the fuzz on your face,” he advises for the up-tenth time, having come to pick his friend from his classes, in the last months of his gymnasium. “It’s trying to take over.”

He only gets a pleased little grin in return. “Nope! I’m growing it out!”

Kili actually stops and stares. “That is the dumbest idea I have ever heard from you,” he declares without missing a beat.

“Bah, nonsense! I’m trying to prove a point here. In a few short months I’ll be a university student – I think the ‘tache will give me respectability; project a message of ‘here is a student, we wouldn’t mind letting assist in class’, you know? I’m going for the same look as all the old Prussian Kaisers and Generals had. The old profs are bound to love it!”

Kili grows quiet for a moment and they pass several more blocks in silence. They are still not completely over the fact that Fili is going to University and Kili isn’t. They have been apart school-wise for close to two years now and they spend every _other_ waking hour together, Fili studying, Kili working, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

“The only point you’re proving is that you’re hairy,” Kili mutters eventually, scratching absent-mindedly at his own newly-sprouted scruff and letting out a frustrated huff.

“You’re jealous,” Fili counters, like he always does, and as always he earns a glare from his friend.

Fili only laughs at that and Kili finds that he can’t stay upset for long.

 

\---

 

It is possible that Kili is only able to get his hands on Fili’s precious whiskers because of his injury, but he figures he’ll take it.

It was silly, really. One moment he was serving the customer, trying to fetch a bar of soap from the top shelf – needed the ladder of course, but he was still a little short for the bar he wanted, stacked neatly on top of the others, so he pushed on his toes and almost managed to poke at it enough to make it stick out at an angle, so he could grab –

\- Next moment he found himself sprawled on the floor, stunned and clutching at his ankle, crying out at the shooting pain.

There was sound of thundering feet on the stairs and then Fili was there, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and shouting at the shocked client to go and fetch the doctor.

He’d actually jumped clear over the counter to get to him – the same counter that Kili had bounced off earlier; there was a terrific bruise over his left kidney – and Kili would have been impressed if he wasn’t aching so much.

Kili licked his wounds, not least of all to his pride, sulked and complained, while Fili offered to take his place helping out at the shop after school, until Kili recovered.

It’s an odd arrangement, but it works – Kili stays in an old, faded pink armchair – Fili calls it his throne - tucked away in the corner behind the counter, with a wooden chair in front of him, piled high with only the softest pillows for his ankle. It’s sprained, not broken – Kili counts his blessings, can’t imagine how much _that_ would hurt - and a frozen bag of peas, slowly defrosting around it, makes it bearable.

Fili meanwhile is a little ball of sunshine, bouncing around the shop, looking to Kili for directions, as he’s not aware yet where each article lives.

It fools everyone, except Kili.

Kili sees guilt among all the jokes about their resident mountain goat, and he doesn’t quite understand why it would find a place in Fili’s blue eyes.

So when his mother brings them dinner into the shop, and offers to man the counter for a while to give them the chance to eat it still hot, Kili decides to go into offensive.

He watches Fili wrinkle his nose in a futile attempt to keep his precious moustache out of the creamy tomato soup he is trying to wolf down and finally snorts.

“Right, give it here.”

“Hm?” the blond looks up.

“Before you wear most of that soup on your face and put off any potential customers. Give it here,” he motions Fili closer impatiently.

It only proves Kili’s intuition right when Fili puts the soup down on the counter and hesitantly leans closer without a word.

He looks at his face for a moment, licks his lips and considers how it feels good to have Fili do as he asks without question. It’s something akin to a small triumph in rivalry, but softer, more appreciation and marvel that someone as important as Fili would just let him do as he pleases with his face. Something about physical contact trickles into the mix as Kili confidently takes Fili’s face in both his hands and none-too-gently pulls him closer still.

“Hey now!”

“Stay still. I have an idea.”

Fili groans and rolls his eyes, but that damned caution in his eyes is gone and that makes Kili feel good.

 

\---

 

“All done!” Kili declares, tying off the short ends of the string. “There will be scissors in the top drawer under the till, so we can snip the –“

“You are not taking scissors anywhere near my face!”

“Fine!” it’s Kili’s turn to roll his eyes now. “Do you like it?”

He watches Fili’s tentative fingers trace his new creation, feeling pleased with himself. He has resolved the tension between them, infinitely improved Fili’s personal appearance and probably saved his clothes in a single stroke of genius. While injured.

“You made… braids?”

“Yep. They will keep it out of your food. Well, as much as possible, anyway.” Kili beams at his friend. “It suits you. Makes you look all –“ he waves his hand vaguely in the air, pondering the right adjective – “Viking-like. There’s a mirror at the back if you want to see.”

When Fili comes back, he still doesn’t look sold. “It makes me look like I have a pair of pigtails around my mouth,” he declares.

“Beats having a pair of lamp-shade fringes, if you ask me,” Kili shrugs.

Fili scowls, but picks up his soup once again, this time having a bit more luck at aiming his spoon. “The Kaisers of old never wore facial braids,” he grumbles eventually after a few more minutes of enthusiastic food shovelling.

“No, because they had terrible taste and worse ideas. That would be why these things went out of fashion a good decade ago. But as you wouldn’t listen to me –“

He gets an elbow to his ribs for his troubles and somehow he knows they’re going to be okay.

 

\---


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for WinterFRE2017. Prompt 63: Wake up slow. :)
> 
> For Constructedmadness - _I hate them bastards, your employers too._

 

_September 1945_

 

 

The first time he comes round it’s still dark. So dark in fact, that it must be the middle of the night.

Kili must have stirred, or perhaps some wild noise outside has startled Fili enough to rouse him. Whatever it was, he doesn’t resurface completely, content in his spot with the love of his life wrapped up around him tightly. Kili is warm, which is much appreciated during the cold Northern nights.

Fili blinks and cracks his eyes the tiniest bit to the orange glow of embers in the fireplace in the corner. He thinks hazily that it would be good to top up the logs to save themselves from the freezing temperatures in the morning, but makes absolutely no move.

He’s still half in a dream, and in his dream Kili is presenting his thesis on aerodynamics and Fili must pay attention. He blinks one more time at the soft light twinkling at him in the distance and grabs at Kili’s hand over his heart to give him courage during his presentation, seamlessly slipping back into unconsciousness.

 

\---

 

The second time he comes round it’s because his leg is cold.

He watches the dark grey, hazy mist saturating the air and after a long moment arrives at the conclusion that it must be their shared breaths in the early morning light. The thought somehow makes him happy and he carefully tucks his leg back under the covers with a smile.

That’s when he discovers that his blankets appear to have shrunk overnight.

Most of them have been acquisitioned by Kili, who looks far too snug in his little cocoon. Fili doesn’t feel particularly guilty then, pressing his chilled skin flush along a hot, hairy calf and causing a sharp intake of breath.

He’s considering how best to unroll Kili, when he remembers about the fire and decides to make a run for it before he gets too comfortable once again.

Two handfuls of kindling and one larger log over the glowing embers usually do the trick, although not always – they’re not yet very good at wood-burning, too used to coal, more-readily available in the cities. Fili blows at it several times, shivering but watching with satisfaction as the smaller bits of timber burst into flame, licking at the log.

Once satisfied, he makes a dash for the bed again, diving under the covers and snuggling up shamelessly to ease the shivers.

A pair of sleep-soft, brown eyes blinks at him in confusion.

“Where’r you goin’?” Kili mutters with something akin to annoyance but not quite, and next thing Fili knows, he’s enveloped in the soft thickness of Kili’s own duvet and tucked in all the way to his ears.

He resists the urge to rumble approvingly at the exquisite warmth against his cold skin and strong arms pulling him close. Their knees clash a little, but he makes a space for himself with a little bit of gentle shuffling, which they’re both used to by now. Everything smells like Kili and sleep and Fili relaxes, soothed by the quiet crackling of the logs behind him.

He watches hazy, dark eyes still peering at him from under the heavy, thick lashes with utter trust, and the way Kili smiles slowly, goofily, when Fili’s fingers find the narrow strip of bare skin where his shirt rode up in the night. He doesn’t tease, only caresses steadily, and his mind slips into the familiar question he’s asked himself a thousand times before:

How could anyone ever want to hurt such a gentle soul?

Most bad things in life can be forgotten with time, but the things that have been done to Kili will stay with him forever. He will always bear his scars, always flinch at loud bangs and avoid small, dark spaces. He will know what boiled rats taste like and remember that another human being can hurt you for no reason at all other than their own sick pleasure.

It’s no less incomprehensible now than it was a few months back, when they were risking everything to protect each other. Kili, this sleepy, messy-haired bundle in his arms is Fili’s everything: memories, laughter, mischief, determination, stubbornness, faith when Fili had none left and strength, incredible strength of character.

The only person Fili would both kill and die for.

“Sleep,” he whispers gently, because Kili’s eyelids are dropping comically and he clearly tries to stay awake with Fili.

They have bought this place so they could feel safe; so they could rest and heal and learn how to be together at last.

Sleeping in, wrapped up in each other seems like an excellent place to start.

 

\---

 

The third time he comes round it’s to Kili shaking his arm urgently.

“Fili!” it’s both a scream in his head and a worried voice fixed firmly in reality.

He groans and rolls over, wordlessly clinging to the living body next to him.

He doesn’t remember the details of the nightmare this time, only the screams at the very end and water - deep and dark.

“Where are we?” Kili’s strong voice, rough from sleep, but demanding an answer.

“Ugh,” he grunts, hating himself a little when he starts trembling against his will.

“Where are we, Fili?” Kili repeats insistently, a hand rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

He tries (for Kili). The fragments of his memory are disjointed and confusing, but slowly the more pronounced memories come to the forefront of his mind:

the train going through the forest,

twenty four thousand,

 _don’t shut me out_.

“Sweden,” he manages, breathing the word into the skin of Kili’s collar bone.

A kiss to his sweaty forehead. “Good. Which day of the week is it today?”

This one is harder, forcing him to nail down the particulars and order things chronologically. It takes him longer to refer to the last time he heard someone mention a date and count back day by day.

“Tuesday, I think.”

“It is. What do you need?”

He shakes his head, noting how the spasms ease off from time to time. “Just you.”

He can feel Kili nod and kiss his forehead again. “You’re out, Fili. Breathe with me.”

He does, automatically falling in a familiar rhythm: when Kili exhales, Fili draws his breath and vice versa. They are working on a release phrase – a simple ‘you’re out’ for Fili, but it hasn’t been long enough yet to stick.

“It shouldn’t b-be this hard,” he whispers bitterly, teeth chattering a little, and forces himself to stretch his legs.

“No, it _should_ be. You wouldn’t be human if it wasn’t,” and there is enough fierce conviction in that simple statement that Fili is able to accept it as fact.

He needs the soothing hand travelling the length of his spine now; he needs the soft kisses pressed to his lips, when he’s finally able to shuffle into a more comfortable position.

“What time is it?” he asks, yawning despite himself.

“I have no idea,” Kili chuckles. “We banned all clocks from the bedroom, remember?”

That finally makes Fili smile. “I stand by my decision. They are better off in the study, which people traditionally visit only _after_ breakfast.”

“I could make something,” Kili offers instantly, pressing his hand to Fili’s neck so he can feel his pulse. “It would help wear the last of the shock off.”

“Nah,” he can almost _feel_ himself sinking back into the personality he’s used to. “You’ll be far too busy massaging my scalp and easing out the tangles.”

Sometimes they slip into easy banter at this point, but this time Kili only snorts and obediently sinks his fingers into Fili’s hair. “You’ll fall asleep again,” he warns softly from somewhere close.

“Sleep is good for me. And I have you for keeping me safe and sane.”

“Only _you’d_ think of a nap as an act of defiance,” amused words carry him back into darkness.

 

\---

 

The fourth time he comes round, it’s to the heavenly smell of fried onions, beans and mushrooms.

“Bribery. Works every time with you,” Kili observes cheerfully, from his spot propped up on the pillows against the headboard.

Fili moans, too hungry to feel self-conscious. He shuffles until he too is more or less upright and then rubs at his eyes.

Kili gives him a moment, something affectionate in the chocolate depths, before passing him his plate.

“You are my absolute favourite,” Fili declares, biting into a thickly buttered toast.

“I should think so!” Kili huffs, putting his own plate away and moving to sit behind Fili.

He doesn’t mind deft fingers starting to tug gently at the strands next to his right temple. Ever since they’ve arrived in this country Kili has insisted that Fili needs a complete Viking look ‘to blend in better’ and somehow, Fili found himself adorned with four braids around his ears, wrangling his hair away from his face.

He also doesn’t resist when Kili wraps his arms around his waist and nuzzles his nose into the crook of his neck.

“Hi,” he murmurs lovingly, tilting his head to the side and pushing his now-empty plate away.

“Morning, Fili.” It’s quiet, easy, theirs to be shared and reassuring.

“So I take it we’re not leaving the bed any time soon?” He can’t quite hide the contentment in his voice, as he allows Kili’s lips to find more of his skin and relaxes.

“And what would we want to do that for?” comes a lazy response.

He doesn’t quite purr when Kili’s fingers brush over a nipple and his hand slips under Fili’s waistband, but it’s a close thing.

 

\---


	12. Soaring

 

April 1946

 

 

Fili’s only experience of war, proper friends falling around you, things blowing up, tanks over trenches and razor wire war, comes from accounts of others, shaky, grainy, black and white film and haunting photographs.

He may have worn the uniform but he’s never been a soldier.

He’s never wanted it; never felt like a hero.

He thinks if he ever _was_ to join the army, he might have been a pilot. With his father’s connections he could have made it into the rigorous flight academy and a rank of an officer would have made the man proud. They might have even looked the other way if they spotted his limp – up there, in the skies, his ability to run wouldn’t have stood for much.

Without the context, Fili thinks he would have been good at it – it’s the same skillset as the one that saved Kili: split-second decisions, attention to detail and carefully calculated risks.

They used to want to be fighter pilots – Kili and him – once. Back when they didn’t understand that flying also meant killing, when it was all arms stretched wide and growled out noises of the engines as they barrelled down the hill nearby.

That was so long ago.

Today all that remains of that innocence is dreams – dreams in which Fili soars utterly free among the open blue skies.

The land is nothing but the colourful contours below, roofs, fields, green patches of forests and the glittering sea. Inside: the world of indicators, gauges, flickering lights, levers and shafts. Throttle, acceleration, incline and the most important of all: control stick – he knows them all, his familiar friends with their quirks and flaws. There is _precision_ to technology which he can’t achieve in his forge and that impresses him. He runs his fingertips fondly over some of the dials, marvels at the worn leather gloves on his hands and the fur-lined trimming around his jacket cuff.

They fly in perfect synch, of course they do – one thought in two minds – because even here he can’t imagine himself without Kili.

He thinks Kili would be one of those odd prodigy pilots – the ones that can’t sit still for five minutes, but put him in a plane and he’d be a different beast altogether – disciplined, focussed, daring, joyful in his flight.

Fili doesn’t know how he knows this, he just does.

Gentle nudge to the control stick and both planes tilt into a gentle swoop, their wings almost brushing their tips, not quite, and now they’re falling, falling, falling, twisting in a loose barrel, coming out of it and gliding seamlessly into a long, sweeping curve.

Fili laughs at the sheer pleasure of it all – man and the machine in perfect harmony, acting like a single being, soaring and free, so free.

Messerschmitts are the greatest planes ever built.

Kili veers off to the side and now it’s a game of run and chase and Fili follows easily, like he always does, trying to repeat the complicated twists and turns, little spins and gentle teasing of Kili’s tail. They toy with each other for a while, each one trying to out-do the other and Fili laughs at that too, tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration.

When they fall side by side again it feels like the gentlest embrace – safety of having each other’s back, of quiet support and complimenting personalities.

“You were dreaming about flying again,” says a familiar voice, low and just a little bit hoarse, bemused.

It doesn’t feel like waking up from a nightmare; it’s a welcome intrusion of Kili’s presence into his mind and he relaxes into it.

“M’ dreaming still…” he murmurs, eyes closed and focussed on watching Kili’s plane soar up and into the white, fluffy clouds like candy floss.

He can’t quite follow, even though he wants to, feels too heavy, with the warm weight on top of him.

“How do you know?” Fili asks instead, is mind calculating Kili’s trajectory and altitude, the fuel they have left, and pondering if his plane will cut a line straight through the clouds, if they could carve them somehow into fantastical sculptures in the sky, or if it will spit him out, unaffected in its fluffiness.

“You were smiling.”

He could say something witty, something that would cheapen the moment between them, but everything is so beautifully clear, so important and saturated with meaning, that Fili feels humbled somehow and simply doesn’t say anything at all.

They fly in tandem for a little while then – Kili and him, one plane, heavy weight draped half on his chest, warmth and soft comfort, fingertips plotting course after course on sensitive skin.

It doesn’t feel like waking up from a nightmare; it doesn’t feel like waking up at all, when he opens his eyes.

He’s among the blue skies still, visible through the little windows of their bedroom. But there is Kili too, dark eyes watching his face lazily, fondly, and the sound of the waves lapping at the shores and wild calls of the gulls.

More conscious now than Fili would like, he rolls a little to one side, pulling his – lover, brother, best friend – closer and hiding in the darkness at the crook of his neck. He tries to take off one more time, but he knows already that it won’t work – not when Kili is this solid and real against him.

Not when he’s being kissed like that – thoughtful brushes of smiling lips along his hairline.

Not when he’s loved so, with heartbeats just for him and curious hands.

Not when it all tugs at him with such ferocity, heart and soul, Kili’s, Kili’s, Kili’s.

Always Kili’s.

 

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